Famous Last Words by Claudia Burgoa EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Claudia Burgoa
- Language: English
- Genre: Classic Romance Fiction
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
Seraphina
L’ open our own center, Blythe said.
It’ll be the best in the New England area—and maybe New York, she
assured me.
We’ll be on top of the world within the next couple of years, she
promised.
And like a sucker, I believed her, caught up in her infectious excitement.
I quit my job and convinced my father to let us rent the ten-acre property
where my childhood home stood. With so much privacy, it was perfect. We
built a facility, along with a couple of bungalows to complement our
services.
Everything had been working well for the past three years, until now;
we’re about to lose the land and the employees are ready to quit. I don’t
blame them though, with the way things look, I would also be searching for
a new job.
How could this happen?
We were blindsided by the office manager, accountant, and landlord—
my father, Thatcher St. Clairmont. He did a poor job at everything. The
mortgage is upside-down, the bank account nearly empty. We can barely
pay our employees, and our suppliers . . . well, that’s another story and a
half.
Technically, he destroyed everything we built. And I know, it’s
something I should’ve seen coming, but I trusted my father with my life.
Who would’ve thought he was doing a shitty job at his work and in life?
After he died, his lawyer and close friend delivered the news: sorry,
Seraphina, you’re fucked and not in a good way.
Okay, he didn’t say it in those terms. It was something like: the property
has two mortgages, and both are past due. The bank probably might
foreclose on it soon. The business and your father’s bank accounts are
overdrawn and . . . some of the suppliers haven’t been paid for the last
couple of months. That explained why every time we call them asking for
our next delivery they keep demanding payment. They didn’t screw up our
account—my father did.
Now, we’re scrambling to figure out how we’ll pay the loan before the
bank repossesses the property. Luckily, we live in a small town where
people give second, third, and even fourth chances—including the local
bank. They gave me three weeks to come up with a solution before they
kick us and all our patients out of the rehab center.
My first idea was to sell all the other properties my father left me. At
least, I assumed he was going to leave them to me since I was his only
living child—and relative. When I asked about them, the lawyer explained
that he didn’t have much to his name.
See, I’m literally fucked. I feel guilty about this whole thing, because
I’m dragging Blythe with me. Though, she assures me it’s also her fault.
She’s the one who insisted we rented my father’s property instead of
looking into a commercial building closer to Hartford, like I suggested from
the beginning.
The past doesn’t matter, though, right? I wish that were true. I continue
thinking about my father’s behavior and wondering how I missed all the
signs. I wish he had at least used the monthly rent we paid to cover the
mortgage.
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